


Ride All Night

by zelda_zee



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blame it on the X or blame it on JC, take your pick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride All Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on July 22, 2008.

If anyone had asked JC about it afterwards, he would have blamed it on the X. Because X makes people do stuff like that, he knows it for a fact. He also knows that X turns him into an overly affectionate creature, as it does to many people, with the side effect of an overpowering desire to lick (other people though, not himself) and purr and rub up against his friends (and strangers, depending on the circumstances) in inappropriate ways. That's why, given his fame, he tends to only do X under controlled circumstances with people he knows very well.

So they do X, and by ‘they’ he means that he and Chris and Lance do, because Joey is still hungover from an ill-advised Jagermeister debauch and, in fact, made it through the night’s performance by the skin of his teeth, green-tinged and woozy and barely keeping his feet. As for Justin, Lynn would kill them if she ever found out, and they all know that somehow she probably would, and even though Justin acted put out as he tromped off to the other bus for the night, JC was pretty sure that he was secretly relieved.

So it’s Joey and Justin in one bus, and Chris and Lance and JC in the other one, for the night anyway, and even though Joey had called them all stoners (pot, meet kettle, JC thought) ‘stoner’ couldn’t really be said to apply to any of them – not really - and certainly not to Lance, though JC thought Lance showed great potential. Poor Lance had just got a late start, due to the disadvantage of his repressive Southern upbringing. Chris and JC are bringing him along though. These days he can do a bong hit as big as either of them, which is major progress from his ‘Just Say No’ phase. As is taking X, something Chris and JC have been working on Lance to do for the past couple of months.

They have an uninterrupted overnight drive ahead of them and as soon as they settle in JC hands Chris and Lance a tablet and a big bottle of water each and informs them sternly that alcohol is absolutely off-limits for the remainder of the night. Chris starts to argue, but JC reminds him that they have a performance the next night and that the last time Chris had done X and drunk tequila he’d had to run offstage three times to puke during the next night's show, which meant Lance hadn’t had anyone to do his flip with and had had to improvise which he hated. Lance scowls at him and Chris promises to stick to water.

A couple hours later they’re lounging around the bus, grinning stupidly at each other and either talking a mile minute, all three of them at once, or lapsing into long, comfortable, dreamy silences. JC can’t quite get over the way Lance’s eyes are so dark, the pupils dilated out until only a thin ring of green shows around the edges. It totally changes the way he looks, makes him go from pretty and a bit girly to strangely dangerous, even with those bizarrely perfect eyebrows.

“Lance,” he says, from where he’s sprawled on the couch. “You look good, dude. Nothin' like a girl.” JC frowns. That isn’t exactly what he meant to say, but oh well.

That’s another thing X does away with – JC’s interior editor. Not that his interior editor really works that well under normal circumstances, but usually he has more tact than to compare Lance to a girl, because even though JC thinks Lance looks a little like a girl a lot of the time, on the inside Lance is about as far from girly as a guy can get.

Fortunately Lance is too stoned to take offense and just grins at JC dazedly. “That’s cool,” he murmurs, snuggling down into a corner of the couch opposite JC. Lance looks cozy, JC thinks, warm and cuddly, like a big, pretty, un-girly teddy bear.

He glances over at Chris, who gives him a blurry smile and nods. “Awesome,” he affirms knowingly and blinks a few times. JC thinks Chris probably hasn’t heard a word they said. JC also thinks Chris’ eyes might be doing pinwheels like a cartoon character, but they’re blown too dark to tell.

“You’d make the best cartoon character, dude,” JC says. “You’d be like, a cat, or maybe a mouse.”

“He’d be able to fly,” states Lance. “A mouse with wings.”

“Or a dog. You could be a dog, if you wanted.” JC offers, mindful of Chris’ affection for dogs.

“You could have doggie super-strength.” Lance says. His accent has become really strong. “And doggie x-ray vision.”

“Lance,” JC says. He needs to hear him talk. He’s never heard his accent come through that distinctly and now he wants to hear more of it. “What would I be if I were a cartoon?”

“Awww, Jayce. C’mon, that’s too easy,” Lance drawls, his voice sliding around inside JC’s head like warm honey. JC actually has goose bumps. “You’d be a Teletubby, babe.”

Chris howls, doubling over. “T-t-t-Tinky-Winky!” he splutters rolling sideways off the couch and falling onto the floor. “You and your m-m-man-purses.”

“And purple is totally your color,” Lance points out, smirking.

It’s really hard, when one is pretty much peaking, not to just dissolve into giggles when the people you are with have abandoned themselves so fully to the joys of a good laugh, but through sheer force of will JC maintains. “Teletubbies are not even cartoon characters,” he points out. “Those are guys in Teletubby suits. And you suck.”

And then he jumps on Chris and started tickling him, because really, he doesn’t care whether or not Teletubbies are cartoon characters and whether they think he’d be Tinky-Winky, though he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with a guy carrying a fashionable and practical bag slung jauntily over one shoulder.

But none of that matters, because Chris is ineffectually swatting his hands away and giggling and squirming around without really trying to get away and it hits JC in a flash of brilliant clarity that Chris is really cute. He’d always thought Chris was pretty cute, though he had to admit, maybe not quite as cute as he thinks Chris is right now, because at the moment Chris is the ne plus ultra of cute, especially with his pinwheely eyes and his high-pitched, helpless giggle and his countless teensy braids. Sometimes JC would pull on the braids or yank on them or grab a handful of them and tow Chris around that way, but he had never just run his fingers through them and he decides that he needs to rectify that immediately. They feel good, soft and firm and springy all at the same time and he plays with them for a few minutes, sitting there on Chris’ stomach and Chris isn’t laughing anymore, he’s staring up at JC with wide eyes.

“Wow, your eyes, Chris,” JC says, threading his fingers through the braids over and over. “They’re like, black. Totally dilated.” He chuckles. “You are so high, man.”

Chris grins blissfully. “I am. I am so fuckin’ high.” He arches his neck back to look at Lance. “How ya doing there, Bass? Flyin’ high?”

“Indeed,” says Lance, nodding. “Most excellently high, thank you very much.” He was stretches out on the couch, watching them with a little smile on his face. Chris lifts his hand and Lance grabs it and they lace their fingers together. JC smiles. He likes to see his friends being friendly.

Chris’ neck is still arched back because he’s still looking into Lance’s eyes and grinning at him, so JC leans down and licks from the base of his throat to his chin, because that’s what he does when he’s on X. People are lickable and Chris is more lickable than most and now that he thinks about it Lance is pretty lickable as well, but at the moment it’s Chris’ neck that has captured his undivided attention. He hears Chris’ breath hitch and feels him jerk a little, but he doesn’t move beyond that, so JC takes that as tacit permission to continue. Chris doesn’t seem to mind having his neck licked at all, so JC just goes to town, licking and licking because Chris tastes nice, fresh from his shower, but with just a little salty tang, and the scent of something spicy, maybe his shampoo or deodorant. The licking turns into a bit of mouthing and kissing and some nipping and when he works his way up to sucking, Chris starts writhing under him and gasping, but the hands he has fisted in Chris’ braids are holding him in place as he licks over the muscle at the side of Chris’ neck, bites down hard and sucks, which feels really good to him, but he’s betting not as good as it feels to Chris, to judge by the sounds he’s making.

He pulls back and loosens his hold on Chris’ hair and Chris’ looks up at him with his eyes out of focus and his mouth hanging open and his cheeks flushed and JC thinks he looks even cuter than before and then he amends that because he’s gotta be honest with himself that Chris, all hot ‘n bothered, doesn’t look exactly cute. He looks sexy. In fact, he looks ravishable and, oh hell, JC might as well admit it, fuckable.

JC glances up and sees that Chris is still holding Lance’s hand, and for some reason that strikes him as so fucking hot. He catches Lance’s eyes, which are very big and very green and a little intense. He feels bad, because for a few minutes there he’d forgotten all about Lance, and that just isn’t cool. They’re in this together, all for one and one for all.

“Lance,” he says, crawling over to him. Lance’s head is hanging off of the edge of cushions, so they’re level. “Do you want me to lick you too? Cuz if you want, I’d be totally into that, dude.” He smiles hopefully.

Lance stares at him, then runs a hand somewhat clumsily down the side of JC’s face. “Yeah,” he breathes. “That’d be nice.”

“Where do you want me to lick you?” JC asks.

Lance’s eyes widen comically. He looks at JC as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Oh, C.” Lance’s voice is deep South, Mississippi drawl and dripping sex like Spanish moss on a cypress tree. “Are you sure you want to be asking me that?”

“Oh.” JC hadn’t really meant it like that. “I – no – I just meant – Or, you know. We could.” He licks his lips thinking about licking Lance. “I mean, if you wanted.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, just takes JC’s chin in his hand and leans forward to kiss him. Light and soft and very gentle, just the way JC has always imagined Lance would kiss. He hears a quiet _oh wow_ behind him, but he can’t think about Chris when Lance’s mouth is so sweetly coaxing his lips apart. He sighs into the kiss, letting his tongue sweep over Lance’s bottom lip and whoa. Suddenly Lance’s hand is strong behind JC’s head and his mouth is working JC’s jaw open and his tongue is plunging in and the kiss has gone from sweet and affectionate to a full-on attack on JC’s mouth within seconds, and JC’s only response is to open wider and let his whimper slither down Lance’s throat.

“Oh, holy shit,” Chris says.

Lance draws back and his eyes flick to Chris. He grins, lots of teeth, predatory. JC marvels. He guesses drugs affect everyone differently. X makes Chris mellow, it makes him – well, it makes him pretty much the same as always only more so, and apparently it drops Lance’s inhibitions faster than Joey drops last night’s club girl, which has the potential to make things pretty interesting here.

Lance sort of melts off the couch and onto Chris and then slides up his body, rubbing himself all over Chris along the way.

“Oh,” says Chris. “Oh. Ohh.”

Funny thing, thinks JC. Chris talks more than the rest of them put together when he’s sober, which is saying a lot. But not now. And especially, not now, with Lance’s mouth on his, pressing him back onto the carpet, his hips rocking slowly into Chris’. Chris’ hands wave around in the air for a minute, before they land on Lance’s back. JC watches his fingers pull at Lance’s shirt and then inch slowly lower until they palm Lance’s perfect ass.

Even high as a kite, JC is a practical guy. That always comes as a surprise to people – that JC’s practical – because people expect him to be a space cadet. But he likes things to be just so, and he’s learned over the years that the only way to ensure that something is to his liking is to take care of it himself. So, while Lance and Chris are otherwise occupied, he gets up and staggers to the bunks, grabs a couple of blankets and pillows and brings them back to dump them on the floor, and then he grabs the lube out of his backpack. He hesitates at condoms, but then he takes a couple anyway, just in case they get ambitious. He dims the lights and finally he searches out the three big bottles of water. If things continue in the direction they’re heading, they‘re going to need to stay well-hydrated.

JC spreads out a blanket and makes himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged next to Lance and Chris, watching Lance pretty much take Chris apart, piece by piece. He’s lying on top of him, his hips working steadily against Chris’, his thigh pinning Chris’ legs to the ground, his mouth glued to Chris’ like he’s trying to suck his soul out of him. Chris’ eyes cut over to JC and JC smiles at him. Chris looks confused and startled and JC can clearly read dude, what the fuck? in his expression. He can also clearly read that Chris is completely turned on. Lance suddenly pulls back and grabs Chris’ arms, pinning them to the floor above his head and holding them there, leaning a bit of weight into it. Chris struggles and Lance just grins at him, leaning down to brush his nose against Chris’ and nip at his upper lip. And then he grinds down, one hard, slow thrust and Chris’ mouth drops open. JC can see him squirming beneath Lance, can imagine them both hard, pressed against each other, the bump of cocks through jeans and sweat pants. He’s hard just thinking about it, but then he’d been hard since he bent down to lick Chris’ neck.

“Oh, fuck,” breathes Chris, his eyes glued to Lance’s.

Lance brought his lips close to Chris’ ear. “Only if you want to, Kirkpatrick.” He glances up at JC, taking in the obvious bulge in his shorts, then giving him a wink before he bites Chris’ earlobe. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He laughs silkily.

“I think – fuck – Lance. Jesus. I’m too high for this, man.”

Lance rocks into Chris again. “Doesn’t feel that way from here, Chris.”

JC gets down onto his elbows and crawls closer. “You’re not too high, Chris,” he says seriously. “Have you ever had sex on X?” Chris shakes his head. “Oh, dude,” JC says sadly. “Dude. Tell me it’s not true. You disappoint me, Chris. You’ve got to. I mean, seriously.” He looks from Chris to Lance. “Seriously. It cleans out your pipes for, like, a month. I mean, you’ll think you’re gonna die. You guys, we have to have sex. Am I right? We _have_ to.” He’d been pretty convinced before that they were going to have sex, but now he can see the utter rightness and inevitability of the road laid out before them.

Lance lets go of Chris’ wrists and leans up on his side and Chris’ doesn’t move at all other than to turn his head to watch JC.

“So, you’re up for that, C?” Chris asks. JC nods. At the moment it seems like the most perfect idea he’s ever had. He simply can’t see a down side. He wonders why he’s never thought of it before. “Are you kidding?” he says. “We should’ve done this ages ago.”

“Chris?” Lance watches him curiously, waiting for his answer.

“Uh. Well. Okay. I guess we could.” A pink flush works its way up Chris’ face.

“Blushing!” JC exclaims. “Chris, I can’t believe it. Never have I ever seen you blush before.”

“It’s cute,” Lance says, staring down at Chris like he’s ready to take a bite out of him. Chris flushes a deeper red.

“Uh, Lance?” JC says. “You’re, um – you seem like you’re, uh, with the program?” It’s a pretty safe bet, given the way Lance has been all but devouring Chris, but JC thinks it’s probably a good idea to get a verbal, just to be on the safe side.

“Yeah, C, I think I probably am.” He smiles at JC. “Since you guys are so intent on corrupting me.”

Chris snorts. “I don’t think you really need our help with that, Bass. Seems like you’ve been doing fine on your own.”

“Yay!” exclaims JC, clapping his hands with delight. “Sex! Let’s get started!”

Which is how they end up sprawled on JC’s conveniently placed blankets and pillows, making a more concerted effort to get sexing, which isn’t as straightforward as one might imagine, due to the effects of the X which keep distracting them from humping and thrusting and divesting themselves of hampering items of clothing in favor of nuzzling and hugging and just sinking into each others' warmth, and in fact, JC has to admit that if not for Lance’s surprisingly strong and previously unsuspected desire to go all alpha dog on Chris, things might have easily devolved into an all-night snuggle session with maybe some light petting and a lot of platonic licking on JC’s part, and far too many coyly whispered sentimental confidences between the three of them. Fortunately for them, Lance is made of sterner stuff and is able to stay focused enough to get Chris mostly naked, even with JC licking at whatever part of Lance happens to be available a the moment.

Chris seems to be a bit flummoxed by this development, namely being pinned and ravished by Lance, not that he’s protesting all that much. He just keeps saying “oh!” or occasionally “oomph!” and once he squeaks “Lance!” in his highest falsetto when Lance works his sweat pants down over his hips and palms his naked cock. Lance doesn’t say much of anything, just makes contented little growly sounds deep in his chest that make JC’s cock twitch and must have a similar affect on Chris from the way he groans in response.

JC grabs Chris’ hand as it flutters around in the air and sucks in a finger and Chris arches right up off the floor in a move JC thinks looks more than a little slutty and a whole world of hot, so he sucks in a second finger. Chris’ turns to look at him, his face pink and glowing, his eyes slowly falling shut and then heavily opening again. Lance’s hand is still buried in Chris’ crotch, though JC can’t see what he’s doing, but whatever it is it’s keeping a steady stream of _oh oh ohs_ spilling from Chris’ lips and when Chris’ eyes go all glassy and he makes a much louder “Oh!” JC suddenly decides that watching and finger-sucking are no longer doing it for him and he needs to be in on the action, so he shucks his t-shirt and shorts and plasters himself against Chris’ side.

“Clothes, Bass,” he mumbles against Chris’ nipple and suddenly Lance is there, right beside him, his cheek pressed to Chris’ chest, looking into his eyes, his tongue reaching out to tease the hard nub and meeting JC’s in the process and then they’re kissing and Lance’s tongue is hot and thick in JC’s mouth and he sucks on it, trying to separate out the taste of Chris from the taste of Lance. Lance grabs JC’s hand and brings it down to Chris’ cock, wrapping his fingers around it and setting a steady pace.

“Keep him happy for me,” Lance whispers, kissing JC again, a wet, open, messy kiss that JC thinks was just about the hottest thing, ever, before he kneels up and starts unbuttoning his shirt while Chris and JC lay on the floor, panting, and watch.

“Nice,” JC murmurs as he watches the reveal of sleek, golden skin. Lance always maintains such a good tan. It’s an accomplishment, given their hectic travel schedule, but he makes it a priority. Lance is good at prioritizing, JC has to admit. It’s definitely one of his strengths.

“Yeah,” pants Chris, then, “Oh,” as Lance pops the top button on his jeans and “Oh,” as JC rolls his thumb over the head of Chris’ dick, picking up a load of wetness that he proceeds to smear around. JC brings his thumb to his mouth and licks, then sucks on it for a moment, letting his eyes close as Chris’ taste fills his mouth. “Ohhh”, Chris says again. JC opens his eyes to find that Lance has stopped unbuttoning and is staring at him.

“Don’t stop,” he tells Lance. “I like the striptease. It’s sexy, dude.”

“You’re distracting, C,” Lance replies. “I can’t concentrate when you’re sucking on your thumb like some kind of pervy baby. It’s kinda twisted. But hot.”

“I think JC has an oral fixation.” Chris says. “We learned about that in F-Freudian Psy-y-ych-ohfuuuck, fuck -”

“Freudian Psychofuck?” teases Lance. “What kind of school did you go to, Chris?”

Chris is right, JC thinks. He does have an oral fixation, and when he’s high it really comes out of hiding, if it could ever really be said to be _in_ hiding. He guesses that it’s pretty obvious at the moment, now that his lips are wrapped around Chris’ cock, sucking him in nice and tight until he fills JC’s mouth in the most wonderful way, hot and hard and musky. He hums happily, moving up and down, hearing the hurried rustle of Lance hastily and unceremoniously shedding the rest of his clothing, striptease forgotten, and Chris gasping, his hands pulling on JC’s hair in a very satisfactory manner as he flings his legs open invitingly, making JC smile as much as he can with his mouth so full.

“Mmm,” he sighs, licking and lapping to his heart’s content. “Mmmmm,” he sighs again, a little more emphatically, because there are hands on his ass, stroking and squeezing, fingertips roaming pretty much everywhere – down his thighs and over his balls and sliding under to caress his cock and back and up and, oh god yeah, pretty much everywhere. It feels amazing, but when the fingers return and they’re slick this time, sliding up and down his crack and then pushing slowly, carefully inside, he moans really loud and utters a silent prayer of thanks to whoever remembered the lube, before he realizes that hey, that was him.

JC’s floating, his body warm and heavy and too full of feeling and everything he’s feeling is good, really, _really_ good, and he just doesn’t want it to stop, not ever. His eyes are closed and he’s almost forgotten about Chris and Lance, even though he’s got Chris’ dick in his mouth and Lance’s fingers inside him, but he’s flying somewhere out in the ether and phrases like ‘Chris’ dick’ and ‘Lance’s fingers’ just don’t compute. He’s moaning and sucking and rocking and pushing back and dimly he can hear someone else moaning as well, or maybe two someone elses, he’s not sure.

It doesn’t go on forever, but it goes on for a long time – long enough that despite being out in orbit and so turned on he can’t even form words, he registers that his jaw’s starting to ache. He opens his eyes and it’s the weirdest thing ever to be suddenly back in the bus, Chris sprawled beneath him, arched up and shaking, his dick hard and leaking in JC’s mouth. JC hadn’t even realized that his ass is sticking up in the air, what feels like three fingers buried deep, drawing out and pushing back in, and Lance is thrusting a substantial hard-on against the back of his thigh.

It’s like, whoa, reality check, and JC thinks maybe he liked it better when his eyes were closed and he was somewhere far away, because it’s a whole ‘nother thing when it’s suddenly Chris and Lance again and not just disembodied body parts. A sort of funny sound comes out of his throat and he freezes, just for a moment, but apparently Lance isn’t as out of it as JC is, because his hand slides up JC’s back as he leans down to cover him.

“Shhh, s’okay,” Lance leans down and pants in his ear, his voice sort of in slo-mo and as deep as JC’s ever heard it. “It’s good, it’s all good. Don’t freak on us, baby.” He twists his fingers until his knuckles bump JC’s prostate and JC cries out around Chris’ cock and then Lance just stays there rubbing back and forth until JC’s flying again, shot right back out in space. Lance is muttering “Yeah, that’s it, that’s right,” and Chris hasn’t said anything but _unh unh unh_ for as long as JC can remember and JC has actually apparently lost the ability to suck cock, which has only happened to him once or twice before in his entire life. Chris’ cock slips from his lips and JC can’t do a thing about it because Chris’ cock is somewhere back on Earth and JC is way out in space, maybe circling around Saturn or Jupiter, whichever one is farther away. He really needs to remember this, he thinks, and write a song about it. Well not about Lance’s incredible, magical, stupendous, ohmyfuckinggod fingers, because he doubts he could get that recorded, although there really should be a song about Lance’s fingers because, Jesus, as he pushes back and moans in what he hopes is an encouraging way, something so fucking divine really deserves a song, in fact, it deserves an opera, yeah, an opera about finger-fucking, now there’s something JC could really get excited about.

“I really think I should fuck you,” Lance says and JC thinks so too, even though just a while ago it hadn’t seemed particularly likely that they would get to this point. “I think you just need to be fucked, C.”

JC shudders because Lance is right, he does, even if he hadn’t thought of it in exactly those terms.

“Yeah,” he gasps, mouthing wetly over Chris’ crotch, too distracted to put any real effort into it. “Oh god… yeah. I really do.” Lance rubs his fingertips firmly inside him and JC’s dick spits precome onto the blanket and then Lance pulls back and JC’s left draped over Chris, panting and shaking.

“Chris, sorry, man,” JC gasps, pressing his face to Chris’ belly. “I kinda lost track of you there.”

“Uh. Uh. It – it’s okay,” Chris says, obviously having trouble forming words. He strokes a hand through JC’s hair and JC crawls forward so that it’s easier to bring Chris’ face into focus. “Good. All good.” He brings his hand to JC’s mouth and rubs his thumb over it. “Your mouth, JC. Your mouth is fucking amazing. You’re like some kind of turbo-charged Hoover with a lot of super-cool attachments.” Chris giggles. “Yeah. Like that.” He giggles again, then moans, then sighs. “Fuck, I’m high.”

“High,” breathes JC, burrowing into Chris’ chest. “So high. Lance is gonna fuck me. Oh god, Lance is gonna fuck me.” He groans, too turned on to feel freaked out. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, seriously, no. It’s all good, C. Everything’s all just… perfect.” Chris sighs blissfully.

“Hey!” JC calls weakly. Trying to get his voice to work right is a losing proposition. “Where the fuck are you, Bass?”

“I’m right here,” Lance grumbles. “I’m having condom issues. God damn it!”

“Lance is high on X and grumbley,” JC says to Chris. “How is that even possible?”

“Here, I’ll – let me up, C.” JC sits up, wobbles a bit and grabs ahold of Lance’s leg because, whoa, head rush. He looks down to see his hand, long-fingered and pale, gripping the thick muscle of Lance’s thigh. Lance has really pretty skin – tan yes, but also smooth and nearly flawless, with soft, blond hairs that shine like a golden aura. JC runs his palm over the tips of the hairs, feeling how they just barely tickle and after a few seconds he realizes that this is not sufficient, so he wriggles around until he can get his face down there and rub the tickley little hair-ends against his lips and his nose and his cheeks. It’s while he’s doing this that Lance says, “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing, C?”

JC doesn’t open his eyes, just murmurs, “Hair’s really soft.” Then he does open his eyes and looks up to see both Lance and Chris watching him and then he turns his head and Lance’s dick is right there and there’s a hand around it, stroking slow and easy, and it’s not Lance’s hand because the fingers are too short and there’s dark hair on the arm attached to the hand. Lance groans and when JC looks up again Lance’s head is resting on Chris’ shoulder and his eyes are closed and he looks totally gone.

Chis smiles at JC and waggles his eyebrows and he looks from JC to Lance’s dick and JC gets the message. He keeps his eyes on Chris’ face and licks his lips, opens his mouth and slides his tongue over the tip. Lance gasps, but JC’s eyes are on Chris as he slowly, slowly takes Lance’s cock into his mouth and it’s the strangest thing because it’s Lance who’s making all kinds of sexy noises, but it’s Chris’ hand that JC’s lips touch and Chris’ face that JC watches and his wires are all getting crossed, because it feels like he’s sucking Chris’ dick – he can even see Chris reacting just like it’s him in JC’s mouth. It feels oddly intimate and pretty damn strange and JC makes a little noise, a needy kind of whine because even though he loves this and could just keep on doing it indefinitely, he’s also really fucking turned on at the moment.

Lance’s hands are in his hair, combing through it and man, that feels so good. He moans, taking Lance deeper, letting his eyes close and just giving himself up to it.

“Oh-okay, babe,” Lance says in that sexass voice of his, all low and drawled-out. His fingers massage JC’s scalp as thrusts gently and his cock bumps the back of JC’s throat. “Yeah. Oh holy – oh man, look at him. Chis, can you – can you see how he – ohhh”

“Yeah, I see,” Chris says. “Now where were we? C’mon, C.” JC opens his eyes and looks at Chris, who makes a little circling motion with his hand and somehow JC knows just what he means by that, so he turns around again and presents his ass to Lance. JC’s ass is not something that’s easy to resist. JC knows this and he likes to use it to his advantage. Like now.

“Oh, okay,” Lance says. “I got distracted. You’re very distracting, C. You both are, actually. Extremely distracting.” Lance is babbling and JC looks over his shoulder to see Chris in the process of rolling a condom down Lance’s dick and slicking him up. Getting him ready to fuck JC, and the thought of that makes him flush hot, makes him spread his legs wider and arch. His breath stutters when there’s a hand on his hip, Lance or Chris he doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Fingers slipping inside him, cool with lube and he’s so ready that he doesn’t need anything more, which he tries to say, but he’s not very articulate at the moment and he only manages to groan _really don’t_ , and then, _oh my god_ when Lance pushes into him.

Lance takes it very slow, which is nice of him and all, but JC’s been ready for a while now, so he just makes an executive decision and pushes back until his ass is nudging Lance’s crotch and Lance gasps, “Jesus, C, hold the fuck on. Jesus.”

“C'mon,” JC moans, hips circling. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” Lance makes a laughing, groaning noise and grabs him, his fingers digging in and he’s holding him still, not letting him move at all and it’s not fair, it’s really not. Lance said he was going to fuck him, but Lance is _not_ fucking him and it’s torture, oh, why the hell won’t he move?

“Easy now. Be patient,” says a soft voice in his ear, a voice that has a smile in it and it’s all very well for Chris to urge patience, but he’s not the one who’s speared on Lance’s dick but unable to do anything about it. Chris’ hands are touching, stroking, rubbing over JC’s back, hips, thighs. It feels so good JC wants to cry. Wants to cry because he’s so desperately impatient and the drugs don’t seem to be mellowing him out, not one bit. “Give him a minute, C,” says Chris. “Just a minute, okay, baby?”

JC has to smile too then, because Chris is being all sweet and loving, a sure sign that he’s high. And also being called ‘baby’ by Chris is really nice and not something JC would have anticipated Chris saying no matter how high he was.

Then Lance draws back slow, pushes in hard and deep and every sensible thought flies out of JC’s head, if he’d had any in there in the first place, which is highly unlikely at this point. His mouth goes slack and his body goes limp, so limp that he’s down on his elbows before he knows it and then down to his chest and he’d be flat on his belly if Lance wasn’t holding him up, fingers tight on JC’s hips. JC’s dick’s not limp though, it’s hard, so hard, throbbing with a delicious ache that radiates outward until it consumes his entire body. He remembers this from before, how fucking on X makes him feel like his whole body’s being fucked, not just his ass. And when he comes – oh god – it’s a full-body orgasm too. He whimpers, tries to make his muscles cooperate enough to do his part and work himself back onto Lance’s dick. His legs shake with the effort and his timing’s off, which jars him out of his drug-and-sex-induced stupor, because his timing’s never off. If there’s one thing in this world that his body knows it’s how to keep a beat. But, as he pushes back and misjudges again, he’s got to admit, it’s beyond him at the moment. He has no idea how Lance is managing. The thought flits through his mind that he could open his eyes and check and maybe find out what Chris is up to too, but then Lance thrusts in so perfectly that JC’s brain sort of shorts out and he forgets about opening his eyes and about everything else, including his own name.

“Up. C’mon C, help us out a little here,” says Chris and there are hands on his shoulders (Chris’), and hands on his hips (Lance’s), and they’re pushing and pulling and he whines in protest, because he was quite comfortable as he was, thank you, and would Lance please get the fuck on with it and fuck him? But no, it appears that repositioning is in order now. He lets Chris and Lance manipulate him until they’ve got him how they want him, which is kneeling up and straddling Lance’s thighs, his back against Lance’s chest and Lance’s cock sinking in so deep that it makes JC's breath come fast and shallow, makes him feel pulled apart and split open and turned inside out. Lance’s arms encircle him tightly and it’s a good thing, because he’d never stay upright on his own. There’s a voice in his ear, hoarsely whispering, but JC’s too distracted by the way Lance’s cock is grinding in and up, slow and hard and dirty. He groans, bearing down, pretty sure he’s never felt anything this good in his entire life.

But then Chris takes JC’s cock in his mouth. JC shouts and bucks, his hands scrabbling until Lance pins them, wrapping him up tight again. JC’s head falls back onto Lance’s shoulder and he just gives in, gives it all up, every semblance of control over his body, lets them hold him up and fuck him and suck him, lets the sound rise up out of him, lots of sound, lots of volume, louder and louder, until someone (Lance) claps a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t care, barely notices. He’s just sensation at this point, pleasure, sheer and unadulterated, centered in his balls and his cock and his ass but building until it’s unbearable, until he has to come or lose his mind. And he does, in a rolling wave that builds and builds and crests, so that ecstasy slides over him and tugs him under, and he tumbles into it, surrounded and held as it buffets him from all sides. He’s drowning in it, sinking down, rising up, floating, falling, flying, it’s everything and all-encompassing. He’s dimly aware of Chris swallowing, and Lance still fucking into him and of the deep almost painful, contractions in his dick that fill his body with aching sweetness until his awareness fades to gray.

JC doesn’t faint, because no way would he do that, not just from having sex. He just loses a minute or two, that’s all, and during the minutes he’s out a few things change. When he comes to he’s lying beside Chris, who’s on his back, his legs around Lance’s waist and Lance’s dick buried in his ass. It’s a nice sight to wake up to, or it would have been if JC had passed out, which he hadn’t.b

Lance is going at it like he means business now, and Chris is hanging on for dear life, head back, mouth open, wordless exclamations escaping with every thrust. JC thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and if he wasn’t so completely fucked out he’s got no doubt that the sight of it – and the sounds, because Jesus, they’re making some pretty great sounds – would have him hard again in no time.

JC must be superhuman because he gathers up his strength and manages to scoot close enough to reach between their bodies and wrap a hand around Chris’ dick. Chris’ voice goes up an octave to what JC recognizes as his highest register. Lance makes a noise too, something low and animal and he turns his eyes to JC and wow, they look black and feral, and the thin ring of green around the black seems to be glowing. JC doesn’t think Lance sees him, really, he looks so sex-hazed and out of it. They’re moving too much for JC to really jerk Chris, but it doesn’t matter because every time Lance’s hips snap forward it pumps Chris’ dick through JC’s fist. He just holds still, lets Chris fuck his hand, enjoys the feel of his dick sliding slick and hot against his skin. Lance shifts above him, holding Chris down, hands around his wrists, because Chris is squirming and wriggling all over the place. And that must be all Chris needed, because his eyes fly open and he stares at Lance, his mouth working soundlessly and then he arches up high, back bowing, muscles tensed and quivering. JC feels it right before it happens, feels Chris’ cock swell and harden even more. Chris cries out, bucks hard and his dick convulses and he shoots between them, over their chests and stomachs, some of it running down over JC’s wrist.

Lance groans, fucks Chris hard and fast, so hard that JC knows Chris is gonna be sore as hell tomorrow. Chris doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s loose-limbed and blissed-out, little moans and breathy gasps wrung out of him. JC watches the play of muscle in Lance’s thighs, the way his ass clenches as his hips stutter. He buries his face in Chris’ shoulder and groans, long and low, _fuuuuck_ , still moving even if his rhythm’s all shot to hell. He doesn’t stop for what seems like forever, writhing on top of Chris, skin to skin, sliding slick through come and sweat. When he finally comes to a stop with a groan of, “Holy fucking shit,” he collapses down on top of Chris, who grunts but makes no protest despit being crushed by into the floor by 170 pounds of naked, sweaty boybander.

“Jesus Christ,” Chris sighs and then he laughs. Not just a giggle, a full-out belly laugh. Lance chuckles and shifts back onto his knees, pulling off the condom and knotting it. JC manages only a dreamy smile.

“Come over here, C,” Lance says, flopping down on the blanket beside Chris. JC’s only about a foot away, but apparently that’s not close enough, because Chris grabs his arms and tugs at him until he’s half sprawled over Lance.

Lance’s arm is around his back, JC’s head resting on his shoulder. Chris is just on the other side of him and JC’s fingertips are rubbing up and down Chris’ arm. It’s nice, laying like this, tangled up together. Lance feels good, all smooth and hot and, mmm, substantial. JC snuggles in closer, really close, so that his crotch can press against Lance’s hip.

“Oh my god,” says Lance, turning his head to stare at JC. “You have got to be kidding me.”

JC shrugs, grinning. “I have a healthy sexual response,” he says.

“You mean you’re oversexed,” Lance states.

“What?” asks Chris, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Dude’s got a boner,” Lance says to Chris. “He’s ready to go again.”

Chris groans, burying his face in his arms. “I’m warning you, my ass can’t take anymore,” he warns. “It’s someone else’s turn. Lance, it’s your turn.” Lance doesn’t say no, but he gives Chris a look, eyebrow raised. JC thinks Lance will need some convincing. Fortunately, JC feels up to the task.

“I thought you said this’d clean your pipes for a month,” Lance reminds him.

“I may have slightly overestimated,” murmurs JC, humping Lance’s hip. “Watching you guys sort of revived me. And you feel fucking good, cat.”

“JC. JC. JC,” Lance sighs, taking JC by the waist and hauling him on top, so that he’s straddling both Lance and Chris, his knees resting between their legs. JC pushes up so that he can see them grinning up at him. Their eyes are still dilated wide, their smiles are still totally stoned-looking.

“Go ahead, dude,” Chris says, spreading his arms. “Do your worst. We’re all yours.”

A huge grin splits JC's face. "My worst is also my best, you'll be happy to know," he says.

Chris eyes him skeptically. "Seriously, what does that even mean?".

"You'll see," says JC, and proceeds to show them.


End file.
